


Strap on Your Sunday Clothes

by ao3afterdark



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, Incest, Sibling Incest, and in which the author was shockingly sober while writing this, in which bethany hawke is drunk around the wrong sibling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 10:50:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7712065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ao3afterdark/pseuds/ao3afterdark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bethany Hawke is three sheets to the wind, and her sister decides that she and a certain pirate know exactly how to manage that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strap on Your Sunday Clothes

"How do you feel, sweetness?" Isabela asked as she slid a gloved hand up Bethany's stomach, spreading her fingers as they went, just barely grazing the edge of Bethany's exposed breasts. Her chainmail had been removed, tunic had been loosened and pulled down, baring her to the waist, and the younger Hawke turned into her touch with a sound just this side of a whimper that was truly delicious.  
  
"Tingly," Bethany admitted, slurring just enough from drink that when she slumped back into Hawke’s hold, Isabela’s teeth flashed in a smile. She touched wondering fingers to her heated skin and let out a laugh that went hitched on the exhale as Hawke gathered Bethany's loose curls up and swept them off her neck, mouthing at the joining of her shoulder. Bethany shuddered. "Is-is it always like that?"  
  
“Mmmm. Always, if your partners are _really_ good,” Isabela murmured into the shell of her ear, humming appreciatively when another shiver rippled down Bethany’s spine, pressing her breasts into Hawke’s hands, who wasted no time in taking advantage of it. She started to suck at the reddened skin she had so devoted her attention to, drawing it into her mouth as she started to roll Bethany’s nipples between her fingers, letting them go only to smooth the calloused edge of her thumb around and around them in ceaseless circles that had Bethany twisting and turning in their hold, arching into hands and lips and teeth with tiny cries that Isabela eagerly swallowed down.  
  
Bethany was smiling when she pulled back, a quick, shy thing, there and gone, that Isabela ached to catch, so she did, pulling back onto to turn Bethany’s head by the chin to meet Hawke’s hungry mouth. Hawke kissed her roughly, taking what she wanted. She forced her tongue into Bethany’s mouth and plumbed it, gasping tiny cries into the kiss that earned approving noises from Isabela and soft murmur of words that both women missed.  
  
When she was finally released from the kiss Bethany was wobbling, and not just from the drink, or the five following it, and made no protest when she was rearranged she until she was sitting facing them, flushed and disheveled, panting slightly through kiss bruised lips. Hawke nearly purred. Reached out and carded her hand through Bethany’s the sweat dampened hair plastered to the back of Bethany’s neck, smiling at Bethany until her sister smiled back, open and utterly unafraid. That changed in the blink of an eye when Hawke gripped Bethany’s hair tight in a clenched fist and hauled her down, forcing her strap on deep into Bethany’s mouth.  
  
Bethany gagged, and Hawke forced her head down further, shushing her with a kiss to the back of the neck. “You’re okay, Beth,” she soothed, gripping bethany’s hair tight and moving her head up and down, moistening the dildo, eyes locked on the shock and fear chasing itself across Bethany’s face and the hollow of her cheeks as the dildo moved in and out. Hawke moaned, reached out a shaking hand to Isabela and gripped the hand she found halfway there. “Andraste’s own tits but do you look good like this, Bethany,” Hawke said, nearly a moan, and ground Bethany down harder. This felt almost as good as if she’d had a cock herself, she thought giddily, barely resisting the urge to touch herself as she saw tears start to gather in 

Bethany’s eyes and fall, though only with a supreme effort, though Isabela caught her difficulty and tipped her head in a wordless signal that was instantly understood. Bethany was pulled upright with a yank that brought her tumbling into their laps. She had a moment to breathe, two, and then she was gripped up tight and forced down as together they slowly pushed inside of her, using strap ons that Bethany had scarcely been aware of them putting on in her intoxication.

Bethany writhed, mouth gaping soundlessly at the stretch and burn and _fullness_ of it, driving Hawke wild. “ _Fuck_ , Bethany,” Hawke moaned hot against her ear once Bethany was finally fully seated in their laps, unable to tear her eyes away from the cloud of disorientation in her sister’s eyes, reveling in every second. Her hand wandered, leaving one braced to pull at Bethany’s hip as she mapped the soft planes of Bethany’s body with the other, rounding the curve of her hip and up her stomach, pulling Bethany flush against her. Bethany went easily, without a murmured protest save that of shock, trailing high on a wail as Hawke spread Bethany’s legs still wider to accommodate the dildos moving in and out of her with a helpless sound muffled into Hawke’s hair as her hips were rocked, burying themselves into her again and again with the wet slap of skin against skin.

“Please,” Bethany rasped, and whimpered out a ragged cry when Isabela yanked her down on her, hard.

“Ah ah ah,” Isabela smiled, tilting her head so sweat soaked hair spilled down her front, settling back so she could watch the pair of them move in and out of Bethany’s tight, hot cunt. Her breath caught. “No talking!” Bethany whimpered again, and tugged at the restraints, giving a low, helpless moan as the two of them drove in and out of her. The burning feeling had subsided, and now it felt- Bethany shuddered, and then again when Isabela leaned forward and started to suck on her nipple, reaching down as she did to toy with her clit.

Bethany near leaped out of her skin. No one had ever touched her anywhere, least of all there. She hadn’t had the slightest idea that it could feel like that! Her head fell back against Hawke’s shoulder. Her small sounds were lost in Isabela and Hawke’s panted breaths, in Hawke, “Isabela, I need you to-” and Isabela’s answering laugh. Bethany scarcely had a moment to puzzle at it before Isabela lifted Bethany’s legs and pushed them against her chest. She paused long enough to flash a grin into Bethany’s dazed, frightened expression, and then she bucked her hips, slamming into Bethany with enough force that she cried out, and then again, and again, setting a bruising pace that Hawke struggled at first to keep up with and then matched.

Bethany sobbed for breath. She felt like she was being torn apart down the middle. It hurt at first, enough that she bent against Hawke’s hold and fought for every spare breath she could squeeze in during the assault, but then there came a slow burn, entirely unlike the first, that worked its way up from her core where Isabela’s fingers continued to flick a rapid tattoo, and Bethany found herself arching into every thrust, breath coming with a wrench as she ground down, clenching tight around the dildos. Hawke had started to murmur to her again. “You’re okay”s at first, which soon dissolved into “fuck, fuck, Bethany, oh fuck, look what you do to me you beautiful whore,” and “Izzy, I’m gonna-” 

  
“Not yet, pet,” came Isabela’s voice, strained. “Do not.”

Hawke whined, but whatever it was she’d been about to do, she must have changed her mind, because in the next instant her hand had shifted from tugging Bethany down onto them by her hair to her throat, squeezing tight enough that Bethany could scarce breathe. “Look at you,” she said, or tried to, all her efforts bound up into shoving into Bethany as hard and as fast as she could. It came easier now, smooch glides where before everything had felt wrong, too tight and too painful, accompanied by wet sounds every time they slammed home. Her thighs were coated with slick. Hawke was moaning near constantly now. “My beautiful, perfect sister,” she gasped, she growled, thrusting into Bethany with every ounce of the anger fueled lust that had plagued her for years. “Look at you now, begging for cock, spread wide.” She gave a laugh that broke apart into panted obscenities. _”Please, Izzy, please, damn you both!”_

Isabela laughed again, and kissed them both. Bethany tasted blood when Isabela drew back, and wasn’t sure whose it was, hers or Hawke’s or even Isabela’s herself. “Not until you ask your beautiful whore of a sister,” she said sweetly.

Hawke fell still for a moment, the space of a breath, and then cursed. “Bethany! Say it!”

“I- I don’t-”

Hawke growled and rammed home, tearing a loud moan from between Bethany’s clenched lips, and then again, and again, until Bethany almost forgot the question, so caught up in movement and the agonizing friction, and then again there came the growled, “Bethany!”

“Please, please, stop, I don’t-”

“If only you’d talked like that a few minutes ago, this wouldn’t have been necessary,” said Hawke, to Bela’s “Liar.”

“Y-yes then, yes! Anything!” Bethany cried out, “just stop!”

In an instant, Hawke shoved a hand into the space between then and started to roughly work a finger over her clit. She came almost at once, with a loud cry, though Isabela did not, actually pulled back. Hawke roused enough from where she had slumped against the sobbing Bethany’s shoulder to make an interrogative noise, to which Isabela reached out to pet a surprisingly gentle hand down Hawke’s face. “How rude,” she said softly, “not even letting your baby sister finish.” Hawke started to flush an angry red, but Isabela caught at her face and said, “That’s what the rest of the bar is for.”


End file.
